


keep me (next to you)

by singsongsung



Category: The Bold Type
Genre: 5+1, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 04:00:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13022802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singsongsung/pseuds/singsongsung
Summary: Five times Jane, Kat, and Sutton end up in a bathtub together. And one time they don't.AKA: The Bathtub Chronicles.





	keep me (next to you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raisintorte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raisintorte/gifts).



> Title from Taylor Swift's "22."

**1.**

After the first week of assistantships, Kat decides to throw a rager. Jane barely knows her then, only knows that Kat exudes the kind of confidence Jane herself can only dream of, that she is intimidatingly beautiful, and that she has an apartment big enough to fit all twelve new assistants at _Scarlet._ Jane gets ready in her shoebox of an apartment, shimmying into a minidress and sliding her feet into heels of a height she’s still not _quite_ comfortable walking in. 

There are more people at Kat’s than she expects, music blaring, liquor flowing. In addition to the _Scarlet_ assistants, there are a few friends that have tagged along, one assistant’s fiancé, and a small group of guys from _Pinstripe_. One of them flirts with her, and Jane flirts back, but she stays on the other side of the kitchen island. She knows better than to be flattered; to him, she’s nothing more than fresh eye candy, fresh meat. And anyway - she came to the city, to the magazine, for things much bigger than boys. 

She excuses herself from the conversation to go find the washroom, taking her drink with her, the kind of safe-girl-in-the-city behaviour she learned from _Scarlet_ as a teen and still remembers, the kind of behaviour the magazine lamented in its last issue as being an unfortunate feature of rape culture. When she reaches the washroom, the door is closed, and she can hear the faint sound of water running behind it, so she leans against the wall to wait. 

The wait stretches out much longer than she anticipated, and after five minutes have passed, she _really_ has to pee. She knocks on the door tentatively - she hasn’t heard any more movement in the bathroom - and calls, “Hello? Sorry, but are you almost done in there?” 

“Yes!” a voice calls back. “Just let me - ” There’s a clatter within, followed by an alarmed squeak from the same voice, and Jane frowns, putting her hand on the doorknob. 

“I’m coming in,” she says decisively. The voice offers no protests, so she turns the knob and steps inside the bathroom. 

There is a girl in the bathtub, and there are bottles - shampoo, conditioner, body wash - on the floor. Jane recognizes the girl, who is currently looking up at her with a forlorn expression, from work. She remembers her particularly well because of her long dirty-blonde hair, which falls around her shoulders in such casually artful way that Jane wondered, upon their first meeting, if she was from California. 

Jane closes the door behind her, sets her glass down on the marbled countertop surrounding the sink, and crouches down next to the tub, picking up a bottle of bath oil that she knows she could never afford. “Are you okay?” she asks, peering into the face of the blonde girl, who’s got her legs curled up under her in the bathtub. 

“I think I’m panicking,” the girl says, more to the bottle of shampoo she’s holding than to Jane. There is a little tremor running through her voice that tugs at Jane’s heart, tugs at her empathy, and makes her head tilt to the right. 

“It’s been a stressful week,” she says, setting the bath oil on the edge of the tub. 

“I don’t know if I can hack it,” the girl says, the words rushing out like a confession she can’t hold in any longer. There’s a slight slur to her voice, a hint of drunkenness. “I just - ” She looks back up at Jane. There’s something very earnest about her face, something trustworthy. “Sometimes I just feel so much like my mother’s daughter. Do you ever feel that way?”

“Um,” Jane says softly. “Not… really. My mom died when I was pretty young, so… ”

“Oh,” the girl says, both corners of her mouth tilting downward as her eyes, beneath a faint gleam of tears, go very soft. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She shifts up onto her knees and reaches out to give Jane a hug. Jane returns the hug automatically, a bit startled by the strength of the other girl’s hold, the firm and determined way she folds her arms around Jane’s back. 

“It’s alright,” she murmurs, trying to keep strands of blonde hair from sticking to her lip gloss. 

The girl pulls back and looks her over. “You’re very tiny,” she observes. “Did you know that?”

Jane can’t help her laugh. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. I’m Jane, by the way.” 

“Sutton,” the girl replies. “We’ve met before, I think. There are just so many - ” She gestures with one hand, waving it through the air. “Faces. You know?”

“I do,” Jane says, because she truly does, and she’s about to suggest to Sutton that she get out of the bathtub when there’s a loud knock on the door and Kat’s voice calls, “Hey, there’s a line out here! What’s taking so long? There better not be anyone having sex in there!” 

Sutton laughs. “No sex,” Jane calls back. 

“I’m coming in in three, two - ” Kat barges in before she finishes her countdown and then stops abruptly, regarding them with some curiosity, her hip cocked out. “Huh,” she says. Another assistant peers in over her shoulder, dancing on the spot, but she swings the door shut. 

“This is Sutton,” Jane explains, still crouched by the tub. “She’s...having a moment. But she’s fine.” 

“And this is Tiny Jane,” Sutton says, slinging an arm across Jane’s shoulders. She levels Kat with a serious look. “I was not having sex with her.” 

Kat grins at that, and Janes does, too. They lock eyes, and Kat’s grin expands even further. “Wait here,” she says, reaching for the doorknob. “I’ll send the line to my en suite.” 

After she’s gone, Sutton leans in close to whisper, as though they’re not the only ones in the room, “She is _rich_.” 

“I know,” Jane says, lifting an eyebrow, feeling a rush of affection for this girl she hardly knows but sort of feels like she understands. She hands Sutton the last bottle from the floor and then stands again, explains, “I came in here to pee.” 

Kat returns as Jane’s drying her hands, holding a bottle of water, two bags of chips, and balancing a plate of the mini spring rolls she’d had laid out in the kitchen on one palm. “Drink up,” she tells Sutton, handing over the bottle of water. 

Then she clambers into the bathtub right next to Sutton, settling in with her knees pulled up to her chest, leaving one end of the tub empty. She opens a bag of chips and nods toward the space.

“C’mon in, Tiny Jane,” she says, and Jane does. 

 

 

 

**2.**

When the bottle of wine is gone, a couple tears slip silently down Sutton’s cheeks and drip into the lukewarm bath water. Jane reaches over and skims her wet thumb across Sutton’s dry skin, erasing all evidence of tears. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” she tells Sutton, soft and steady. She’s lost how track of how many times she and Kat have said that, now, but it bears repeating until it is believed, until Sutton’s response of _I know_ isn’t code for _thank you_ or _I love you_ but a truth she really means. 

“Do you know something?” Sutton asks quietly.

“Nothing,” Kat says in that grand way of hers, a half-smirk in place on her lips. Her eyes are on Sutton’s face, her gaze gentle. “I know absolutely nothing.” When Sutton gives into the temptation to smile, giving her eyes a half-hearted roll, Kat props an elbow against the edge of the bathtub and says, in a more sincere voice, “Tell us, munchkin.” 

“I don’t know if I would’ve gone to Richard’s if you two hadn’t been there already. I felt…” Sutton widens her eyes and gives her head a little shake. “And… I didn’t want him. I wanted you.” 

“You can say you wanted Jane to hold your hand, I won’t be offended,” Kat says wryly. “She’s the better mom friend.” 

Jane half-frowns, unsure if that’s a compliment or an insult or both, but before she can question it, Sutton gives her head a slow, solemn shake. 

“No,” she says. “I wanted you. Both of you.” She shrugs her bare, sudsy shoulders. “You’re my people.” 

“You’re ours, too,” Jane says immediately. She takes Sutton’s hand with one of her own and gives it a squeeze, and reaches out with the other to clasp Kat’s fingers, too. They reach for each other, completing the circle. 

“I’ll love you always,” Kat says, with an unexpected amount of tenderness in her voice. The words linger in the room for a moment, and it’s only when they fade away that Kat adds, “We should get out of here before the last dregs of Sutton’s modesty disappear with the rest of the bubbles.” 

Sutton’s mouth falls open in an expression of faux-offense and Kat smiles cheekily as she makes her way, ungracefully, out of the tub. She peels off her wet pants and then wraps a towel around her body. “Is it a pizza night or a Chinese night?” she asks. 

From where they still sit in the bathtub, Jane and Sutton say, in unison, “Both.” 

 

 

 

**3.**

After Adena leaves, Sutton bursts into Jane’s room past midnight, her hair in a messy bun atop her head and a coat thrown on over her pyjamas. “We’ve gotta go,” she says simply, so Jane ignores her heavy eyelids and pushes back her blankets, getting up and going to her dresser to grab a pair of socks. 

“Our Lyft’s here,” Sutton calls softly from the living room. Jane shoves her feet into a pair of boots, pulls her coat on hurriedly, and loops an elastic around her wrist so she can try and tame her hair on the way. At the very last minute, she rushes back to the kitchen and grabs a half-eaten package of Oreos. 

They find Kat in her tub, wrapped up in a fluffy robe, her head tipped back and resting on the tub’s rim. Her eyes are dry, but there’s something very sad about the way one corner of her mouth keeps pulling downward. 

“Hey, sweetie,” Jane says, getting right into the bathtub and opening the package of Oreos. She holds them to Kat, who lifts her head and takes one. She doesn’t eat it right away, just twists the two cookies around against the icing in the middle. 

“You want to talk about it, or not talk about it?” Sutton asks, squeezing into one end of the tub next to Jane so that they’re both facing Kat. 

“Not talk about it,” she says immediately, and then amends, “Maybe talk about it.” She separates the Oreo into two and bites into one half. “I feel… lost. I don’t know if I made the right decision.” 

“It was a hard decision to make,” Jane says, reaching over to push Kat’s hair out of her face and behind her ear. 

“I miss her. I really miss her. I don’t know, I - should I have been more brave?” 

“Kat,” Sutton says. “You’re the bravest person I know. And part of what makes you so brave is that you don’t force yourself to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Kat’s bottom lip trembles, and she bites it to make it stop. “Sappy,” she accuses Sutton. “You’re going to give me a cavity before these cookies do.” 

Jane smiles. “Sappiness doesn’t negate truth,” she says. 

Kat grabs another Oreo. “I didn’t feel very brave,” she says. “At the airport. When I watched her walk away. I don’t know, I just - it just _sucks_ so much that I can’t stay here _and_ be with her.”

“That does suck,” Sutton agrees. “Majorly.”

This time, when Kat reaches into the box of Oreos, she takes two cookies. “Do brave people really sit in bathtubs in the middle of the night eating their feelings?” 

Jane takes two cookies, too, and hands one over to Sutton. “All the time,” she says. 

 

 

 

4\. 

“Sorry,” Kat says when her face finally appears on the screen of Jane’s phone, the image somewhat fuzzy. “Timezones,” she explains on a laugh. Her shoulders are bare, her smile is bright, and the sight of her causes Sutton to make a disgruntled noise.

“Look at you!” she laments. “God. And look at what _I’m_ looking at.” She flips the camera on her phone so that they can see the view outside her window, which seems to be composed of several grey blobs. 

Jane wrinkles her nose sympathetically and says, “Turn your camera back around so _we_ can look at you.” 

Sutton does, and offers them both a smile that seems a little tired. “Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas,” Jane echoes, holding in a sigh.

“Feliz Natal,” Kat singsongs, grinning at them, but the mirth in her eyes has been replaced by sincerity. “I miss you.” 

“We miss you, too. And we’re very jealous,” Sutton says. “I can’t believe you’re still in Brazil.” 

“What can I say?” Kat shrugs. “I have wanderlust.”

“Yeah, you’ve got _some_ kind of lust,” Sutton teases, and they both laugh.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Kat asks, “Tiny Jane? You there?” 

“I’m here.”

“You okay?” Sutton asks, her brow furrowing on Jane’s screen. 

Jane shrugs and hugs the arm that isn’t holding her phone around herself. She retreated to the bathroom for privacy during this phone call, and now she perches on the edge of the tub as she looks into her friends’ concerned faces. “I miss my mom,” she says, so quietly that she wonders if her phone’s speaker will even pick up her words. It hits her like this, sometimes: out of the blue, with unrelenting force. 

“Babe,” Sutton says, and then seems at a loss for words. She sighs, “I just wish I could give you a hug.” 

“Me too,” Jane mumbles, blinking repeatedly in an effort to keep her eyes dry. 

“Get in the tub, girl,” Kat says suddenly. “Sutton, you have access to the bathtub?”

“I do indeed,” Sutton says, and begins to move, a doorway and then a hallway appearing behind her. 

Kat’s moving too as she says, “I only have this.” She flips the camera quickly to show them a teal blue shower stall, and Jane watches as Kat tosses a fluffy white towel into it to sit on. “But it’ll do.” 

The images on Jane’s phone shift, and she finds herself looking at Kat’s collarbone, at the sink in Sutton’s bathroom, at a ceiling, and at a loofah hanging off a faucet as the two of them get situated. It takes her a few seconds, but then she moves, too, stepping into the tub and laying down in it as though she’s taking a bath. 

When they’re all settled, Kat says, “There,” with a certain amount of authority, like she’s solved a problem. “We’re with you, Jane.”

That makes Jane smile, just a little, alone in a tub, so far away from them both. “I know you are,” she says. 

They’re all quiet for a while - it might be seconds, it might be minutes; however long it is, it’s long enough that the lump in Jane’s throat stops feeling quite so large. 

“D’you feel any better?” Sutton asks, sounding genuinely curious. 

Jane looks up at the ceiling for a moment and lets herself think of her mother. “You know,” she says, as she looks back at the little squares on her phone that contain Kat and Sutton’s faces, “I do.”

 

 

 

**5.**

Kat’s father has a heart attack in the winter. When they finally find out, in the evening, that he’s out of immediate danger, Kat’s mother says she’ll spend the night in the hospital and sends Kat back home to feed the family dog, promising to call right away if there’s any news, no matter the hour. Kat leaves the hospital with an uncharacteristic slump to her shoulders, Jane and Sutton close behind, their limbs stiff after hours spend sitting in hard-backed waiting room chairs. They sit on either side of Kat in the backseat of the cab, silent sentries. Jane leaves one hand atop her knee, in case Kat needs something to grab onto.

In the Edisons’ townhouse, Kat murmurs something about washing her face and heads upstairs. Sutton takes the dog for a quick walk around the block, and Jane refills the food and water bowls. Then they go upstairs together, to Kat’s childhood bedroom, and look through the dresser for comfy clothes to sleep in. They never talk about staying over, because it’s not a discussion to be had - it’s a given.

When three sets of sweatpants and three baggy t-shirts have been laid out on the bed, Jane checks her watch and bites her lip. “It’s been almost half an hour,” she tells Sutton softly.

Sutton nods slowly. After a moment of thought, she says, “Yeah, let’s go,” and they head for the closed bathroom door. 

Jane raps carefully with her knuckles, feeling Sutton’s hand wrap around her elbow and give it a quick, supportive squeeze. “Kat?” she calls. 

There’s a long moment of silence, during which neither she nor Sutton even dare to breathe, and then Kat calls back, in a voice that’s just a little wet with tears, “Come in.”

They find her sitting in the middle of the jacuzzi tub, knees hugged tightly to her chest, her cell phone clutched in one hand. 

“Did your mom call, babe?” Sutton asks as she and Jane step into the bathtub on either side of Kat.

“No.” Kat rubs at one of her eyes. “Adena. She got a flight.”

“Good,” Jane says. “That’s good.” 

Kat nods. 

“You want us to sleep with you tonight?” Sutton asks. “Be your substitute Adenas until she gets here?” 

Kat cracks a half-smile and tries to joke, “I’m not really in the mood, guys, something about a day in the hospital really kills my libi - ” But she cuts herself off with a sharp inhale, tears gathering in her eyes before she drops her head down to her knees and sobs. 

“Oh, Kat,” Jane hums sympathetically, leaning in to perch her chin on Kat’s shoulder.

“Thank you for coming today,” she says, her voice muffled. She turns her head to look at Jane. “I know you hate hospitals.” 

Jane dismisses Kat’s words with a tiny shake of her head. “I love you,” she says quietly. “More than I hate hospitals.” 

Kat takes a shuddering breath and whispers, “I’m so scared.” 

“I know,” Jane says. She folds her arms around Kat and finds that Sutton’s doing the exact same thing from Kat’s other side; their limbs overlap, and Jane rests a hand against Sutton’s upper arm as they settle in to hold Kat for as long as she needs. 

 

 

 

**(Not) 6.**

“Knock knock,” says Kat, in lieu of tapping on the doorframe, as she walks into the bathroom. 

Jane looks up from where she’s sitting crossed-legged in the middle of her bathtub, presenting a miserable contrast to the bright pattern of tropical fish on her shower curtain. “Hi,” she says in a small voice. 

“What’s going on?” Kat asks conversationally, as though Jane calls her in a panic at one-thirty in the morning nearly every day. She kneels down in front of the tub, wincing as her knees hit the tile. “Oof. Are we getting old?” 

“Yes,” Jane says, “Yes, and I still have _no_ idea what I’m doing.” 

“Your think piece still giving you trouble?” 

“My _featured_ think piece,” Jane corrects, feeling as though she could vomit. 

She can hear the front door open, and then the clack of heels moving quickly across her apartment’s floors. Sutton offers a breathless, “Hey,” in greeting as she arrives in the doorway. She’s dressed solely in black and white, including her makeup: extremely smoky eyes, fading black lipstick. The sight of her confuses Jane’s tired brain and overwhelms her with guilt. 

“You were at one of those fashion assistant things,” she says. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Stop, don’t be. They happen all the time.” Sutton joins Kat on the floor and looks between them. “What’s going on?” 

“Jane’s experiencing professional doubt.”

“Not doubt.” Jane swallows down her nausea. “Failure. I can’t do it.”

“Of course you can!” Sutton says. “Jane, you’re so smart, and you’re an incredible writer. You’ve got this.” 

“I _don’t,_ ” Jane says. “My deadline’s eight a.m., and I’m not done. I can’t finish it. It’s supposed to go at the top of the website’s front page and I - I can’t hit the right tone, I can’t find the right story. One minute I think I’m being way too easy on the administration and the next I’m wondering if it’s possible to be too _hard_ , because government’s never _perfect_ , right, and - and, oh, god, what if it doesn’t age well? How embarrassing would it be if my first featured piece became laughable in two weeks?” 

“Jane.” Kat reaches over and takes her by the shoulders. “Take a breath.” She raises a pointed eyebrow, so Jane does as she’s told, sucking in some air. “Good. _Nothing_ ages well in politics these days, so you can’t worry about that - but your piece will speak to the moment, and it’ll speak to something real. Your articles always do.” 

Sutton nods. “It’s a think piece, right? It's your thoughts. Go with that - don’t worry about being too much or too little.” She puts a hand on Jane’s knee. “You can do this.” 

Jane sighs. “I appreciate the pep talk,” she says. “I do. Thank you for coming, but - but that’s not what I called you for. I called you to come get in the tub with me so I can send an e-mail that might get me fired.” She takes another breath and exhales shakily. “I need to default.” 

Kat and Sutton turn to one another. Janes waits for them to break eye contact and get into the tub with her, but they don’t. They just keep looking at one another, communicating silently, and then, at the exact same time, Sutton’s chin dips down in a tiny nod and and Kat’s chin jerks up determinedly. 

They look back at her, and Sutton says, cheerfully, “Nope.” 

Jane blinks. “What?” 

“She said no,” Kat says, taking Jane’s hands and starting to pull her up. “As in, no, we’re not doing that.” 

“But - ” Sutton takes a hold of one of Jane’s arms, and, powerless to resist against both of them, she stands. “But you’re my people,” she says, in something close to a whine. 

“We are,” Sutton agrees. “We’re your people, and we’re your safety net. And right now we’re going to save you from tripping over yourself and falling on your ass.” She gives the ass in question a playful smack, and then steers it right into Jane’s desk chair. 

Kat opens the laptop sitting on the desk and types in Jane’s password. “You have six hours left, Tiny Jane. You’re going to finish your piece.”

“We’re here for whatever you need,” Sutton says. “Talk at us to work through your ideas, have us bring you a fresh cup of coffee every fifteen minutes, get us to do research - whatever. You write, we’ll do the rest.” 

“Want to start with McDonald’s?” Kat suggests. “I’m hungry.”

“All day breakfast!” Sutton cheers. She gets her purse out of her phone to order through Postmates. “Okay, what do we want? Large coffee for Jane… ”

“And fries,” Jane says absently. “Large fries.”

She looks at her computer for a long moment, trying not to let doubt overtake her again. She takes a deep breath and squeezes her eyes shut, focuses on her friends’ voices as they debate what else to add to their order, and then opens her eyes to confront her laptop’s screen once again. 

She lifts her hands to the keyboard and begins to type. 

 

 

fin.


End file.
